Hampi: Heat.

Every day, the heat grows like a crescendo. It is April fifth and we have been in India one month. We have been in Hampi one week – this place is magical and oppressive. Air is ripe with the sweet smell of rice and dense with its moisture. After rising with the sun, the heat settles over the day like a thick woolen blanket, heavy on my chest.

We have found what we were looking for. Boulders sprinkle the landscape as far as the eye can see and nature has created the most perfect scene of balance. Only nature can. Among the seemingly infinite sea of granite, man has woven in three layers of devotion and a thin, sad layer of waste. From my hill-top perch, the sun is slipping silently away and the energy of evening begins to stir.

My fingertips are tender and hot and reveal the consistent stress of my intermittent activity. I have attempted to solve this problem a number of times, but my body has not yet found what my mind tirelessly searches for. I will know when to rest. Flesh and blood have been taken by this rock, but will is steadfast and remains intact. The solution relies on the smallest of adjustments and if it does not arrive now, I will wait patiently. Its fruition will seem effortless; the practice of body and mind coming energetically together is a discipline. I have just returned to it.

We are tired. Nights are no longer for sleeping. In order to play with the rocks, we merely nap at night and again at mid-day. Despite this mid-day inactivity, we don’t come alive again until dusk. It is hard work carrying a thick, woolen blanket around all day.